Intensity
by VieLalice
Summary: When the potency of the basilisk venom was more than what anyone could imagine, the need for phoenix tears increased. The two combined resulted in one magical anomaly. Slash. AU.


**Intensity**

 _Prologue_

 _When the potency of the basilisk venom is more than what anyone can imagine, the need for phoenix tears increased. The two combined resulted in one magical anomaly. Once again, Harry Potter had done the impossible._

This chapter isn't edited in any way, shape, or form. If you see an error, I will appreciate if someone tells me.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter. Salutations to J. K Rowling for the masterpiece!

 **Warnings** : Some curse words and bouts of depression.

 **A/N** : My second fanfiction in FF. Net and my first Harry Potter fanfiction! I'm so excited!

xxx

 _"It hurts because you feel too much, because you care too much and because you feel connected to it no matter how far you go." –R. M. Drake_

xxx

The wind blowed harshly, the waters ever turbulent outside the fort of a prison; surrounding the Hell on Earth that was Azkaban.

His mind was beyond quiet. It was absent, frozen. _Numb_ , Sirius thought to himself. Nature's antidote to the pain of being alive.

He'd been numb for a long time.

Today, his numbness started to chafe again, making him feel isolated and freezing—like it should be in prison, like it had always been in Azkaban.

Something he circumvented by changing into his Animagus form every time the opportunity presents itself.

Today was not one such opportunity, today the warden would be making an inspection, to check the status of the prisoners.

Footsteps echoed with sound; loud and startling in the silence, yanking him from his thoughts.

He heard himself think, _Harry_ , and for a second he glimpsed a crack in the numbness. But it wasn't Harry, it couldn't be him, since he was in Azkaban. The mere idea of Harry being in Azkaban was ridiculous.

A prison guard. Must be.

Sirius cocked his head sideways—the movement not unlike a dog's. _He's early, did something happen?_

"Unbelievable!"

Certainly, as if called, a tall man stepped into view in a whirlwind of affronted rage before he stopped in front of the dark-haired man's cell while clutching a newspaper in his right hand. ( _Bad move; he won't be able to draw his wand quickly enough with his dominant hand occupied_.)

Receding hairline streaked with whites that made him look old for a Wizard in their 40s, slanted brown eyes, and pinched lips, he was a sore sight in the prison of Azkaban and a miserable constancy as the Animagus' warden.

Sirius recognized the look on his face—dislike, disgust, and more than a little bit of fear—and he wanted to slam his fist into that face if only to give reason for that fear.

He could handle the dislike. There was always someone who disliked him.

Fear, well, there were also people who were scared of him simply because of his family name. Some of the more witless rookie Aurors looked at him as if he would stab them when they turned their backs.

But the disgust?

He'd seen the emotion crossing his mother's eyes when he came home a Gryffindor. Seen it when she tried to disown him. Seen it within Regulus' eyes. Seen it even in Lily's at one point in the past—but he could understand that, he had always been a cruel bastard by taking a prank too far.

To Sirius, disgust should have a reason behind it. No matter how despicable or miserable or irrational it was.

And the only reason he should feel disgust at him, he thought angrily, was if he had actually betrayed his friends to Voldemort.

"The boy lied to us! What Boy-Who-Lived?!" The guard snarled as he threw the newspaper across the prison bars.

After so long staying in one position his joints seemed to creak, unused for so long, as he reached for the newspaper.

"More like the Boy-Who-Lied!" The man rambled on and on like a broken radio ( _now that was hilarious, he and James had laughed like buffoons the last time they went to the muggle world and heard one repeating curse words all day long_.)

Sirius couldn't be bothered to listen to this broken radio, his eyes entirely affixed at the picture of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, donning a mask of fake remorse.

Written as headline at the Daily Prophet was, 'HARRY POTTER: AN EMERGING DARK LORD?!' By Rita Skeeter.

"Must be your influence, Black. Usually the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and Auror Potter was an outstanding man." The guard ( _John, or something, he forgot, doesn't matter anyway_ ) sneered at him.

The paper crumpled where Sirius held it up with his hands tightly formed into a fist. The dark-haired man gritted his teeth harshly.

 _You don't know anything_ , Sirius wanted to shout. _All of you don't even try to dig deeper!_

Harry. He- Harry- Harry would never- But. . . what did he know? Sirius' inner outrage quietened immediately.

He had been imprisoned the majority of Harry's life. He had never met him ever since that day. Harry might not even remember him. So what exactly did he know about his godson?

Personally he believed Harry would never do this. It hurt that he couldn't confidently say Harry was innocent. However. . . he trusted Harry, even though he knew how irrational it was.

The day he first saw Harry was still fresh in his mind as if it had just been yesterday.

xxx

 _It was one of those days where he visited his friends where they were hidden under the Fidelius charm._

 _Though he had work, he couldn't afford not to visit them. That day was special._

 _As soon as he could after receiving a letter that Lily and James' son had been born he cleared his job shift for a whole day to be able to come. (Lily would nag at him if he left early and without permission from his Head of Department.)_

 _James greeted him and led him to the nursery bypassing the living room. Sirius looked around, confused._

 _"Where's Moony?" he asked. Because there was no way Remus would be missing this._

 _James waved his hand lightly. "Moony is on the way. You're earlier than he is today. It's a miracle."_

 _"Hey, I can be early too you know!"_

 _Shared laughter filled the hallway._

 _"Here we are." Without further waiting James opened the door and crossed the room over to his wife and their little bundle of joy._

 _Lily smiled in welcome. James beckoned him closer and gave him a wide grin._

 _"Meet our son, Padfoot. Harry Potter."_

 _He was finely made. Thin, dark eyebrows. Pale pink lips. Skin as smooth as milk._

 _Sleepy emerald eyes tracked out the ceiling, to him. When he saw him, he gurgled confusedly since he had never seen this stranger before, and then he smiled, a slow, gummy, radiant smile._

 _Sirius was in awe._

 _Reaching for the black-haired man, Harry squealed in delight as if knowing the man's significance to him even then, and the high-pitched noise equally entranced him._

 _Sirius reached back and asked, "May I?" Lily warmly smiled and carefully transferred her son from her hold._

 _Harry yanked his hair directly._

 _"Ow!"_

 _Releasing the black lock afterwards, he babbled happily, and Sirius could only indulgently concede with a rueful sigh after gaping awhile—because, how sly! He couldn't even fake his indignation in the face of that cuteness!_

 _Unseen was Lily and James glancing at each other then Sirius with a smile, having come to a decision. A decision with the confirmation they needed._

 _"Sirius, will you do us the honor of becoming his godfather?"_

 _The man himself instantly snapped his head to look at them._

 _"Seriously?!"_

 _James laughed loud and deep. "Yes Sirius, Sirius-ly," he smirked teasingly. When Lily elbowed her husband for joking he just laughed more._

 _Sirius' lips twitched in humor._

 _"Yes," he had breathed out. Too overwhelmed. Too fast. Too much. But worth it, he thought as his godson curled to sleep in his cradle._

 _Definitely worth it._

xxx

Harry couldn't possibly be the one petrifying the other students. This reeked of the Ministry's doing, or lack of, in Sirius' case.

Mentally, he listed the slurs the Daily Prophet labeled his godson with: _evil, merciless, Dark, liar, Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Murderer._

They're wrong. If Harry became Dark—as in evil, because Sirius wasn't stupid enough to believe Dark itself was evil—it was other people's faults that turned him. Righteous anger welled up inside him.

Children didn't come to be evil naturally. Screw the 'nature vs nurture' shit Lily had once told him about when discussing his home life!

No one is born evil, if yes he would be evil for being a Dark Wizard just because his magic was born that way.

It was unfair.

Sirius wanted to rage and cry and scream, but he was too choked up to utter a word. He wanted to see Harry.

But he couldn't.

 _What would have happened if I didn't chase after Peter that day?_

Maybe he would have raised Harry as was his duty as a godfather. Introducing magic to him, explaining Quidditch, taking him to muggle cinemas; stuffs that James would have liked to do with his son.

Stuffs that he enjoyed together with James, his brother in all but blood, a friend who considered him family.

A family. . . One that he could have had with Harry, if only he hadn't been so hell-bent for revenge.

 _Why didn't I trust Remus more?_

Remus could have been a part of their family. He would take the role of the worrywart, _the responsible one_ , Sirius ruefully smiled, the smart one that thought ahead even though the Werewolf was a Gryffindor.

Instead, he had pushed his friend away. Believing him a spy for the Dark only because Werewolves are Dark Creatures.

 _What if I hadn't urged James and Lily to change the Secret Keeper?_

They would have lived. Sirius was sure of it.

Harry would live happily with them without a care in the world with all the care undoubtedly given to him. Knowing his parents firsthand and loving them as they loved him.

Who had Harry's custody with him being in Azkaban?

Was he taken care of? Was he safe? Was he happy?

Why didn't whoever-Harry-lived-with protest Fudge's decision of sending Harry to Azkaban?

Why didn't they contest for Harry's innocence?

Where were they when Harry needed them?

 _Where was I when Harry needed me?_

And that's the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Because all these possibilities, all these 'what ifs'. . . they had happened already.

Meanwhile, he could have escaped to check up on Harry.

It wouldn't be pretty: Aurors teeming to capture him, the Ministry in panic and searching for him. But it would be worth it, to see his godson, nothing should be more important.

Wasting away in Azkaban drowned in self-pity not withstanding.

There could be no excuse to have abandoned Harry. He won't deny, it's what he had done.

Chasing after traitorous Peter to kill him wasn't something he would regret. If he didn't attempt it at the very least, his inaction would gnaw him for the rest of his life. And no, it wasn't an exaggeration.

But, he should have considered what would have happened to Harry if he was killed instead as well. ( _He wouldn't be surprised if the rat played dirty to get the upper hand_.)

Though. . . really, did Dumbledore done nothing?! Where was he in this situation?! Where was he when Sirius was thrown into Azkaban without a trial?!

Sirius took a sudden deep breath and scowled. Forget Dumbledore for now, what matters is Harry.

Harry. His scowl deepened. Harry. _Harry_. . .

He had failed his godson. Less than two years after committing and making promises to him, to them— _to James and Lily_ , and he had failed.

The crinkling of the newspaper drew his attention and he realized something he hadn't before.

All of the people in the other picture he had ignored in favor of Harry showcased one thing. One uniform emotion on their expressions: distrust.

If he hadn't believed it before, he knew then that the British Wizarding World had chosen to follow blindly as they always had in the past.

Not that the other countries wanted to involve themselves, what's with the utter mess the British Ministry had become.

 _Harry, to be sentenced to Azkaban._

No one questioned anything about it. Or, at least, the minority was left unheard.

Bitter resentment rose up inside him like burning bile. He hated those ignorant people, but most of all. . .

He hated himself.

He should have stayed for him.

He should have been there for Harry.

 _It's my fault._

"It's my fault. . . " he whispered in distraught. _I've let you down_. However, it didn't go unheard.

The guard scoffed. "Yes, Black. We already know that."

But, Sirius didn't say it for him. He said it to the Harry that looked so lost and alone in the moving picture as he walked escorted by Minerva. He looked so small and fragile, trying so hard to be strong.

 _I let you down. I'm sorry. I would never stop being sorry._

He needed to fix this. Otherwise he would always regret, unless he fixed this somehow. Unless he got his chance. Until then he'd wait.

Harry would arrive in Azkaban tomorrow, his heart clenched. Azkaban was nowhere suitable for a twelve year-old. Just a child! Still a child. . . and already imprisoned for something beyond his help.

He wouldn't be able to cope. Azkaban was notorious for its surplus of Dementors, and Harry might have no defense against them. Especially if he was without Occlumency training and with no Animagus form to turn to.

The dark-haired man could teach him. After all, Azkaban's loophole was the allowance of internal magic that doesn't include Apparition because of the Wards surrounding the prison.

Harry could learn Occlumency here, as well as going through the basics of Animagus training, though to advance he would need to meditate more to compensate the Animagus revealing potion.

Grim determination filled him. The very next day, he would search for Harry and he would teach him.

He swore a Vow as Harry's godfather. Sirius would help him however he could, no matter what. Let it be his repentance.


End file.
